Chapter 10

Spring was coming to an end, and summer was approaching. I pushed open Jiang Huaiyang’s bedroom door. He was wearing a white sweater, sitting in his wheelchair, tending to his cactus. When he saw me, his eyes curved into a gentle smile. “I’ve never seen a cactus bloom before, Jingyue. When it does, will you tell me?” I crouched down and held his warm hand. “Can’t we watch it bloom together?” We looked at each other, and in that moment, it felt like a lifetime had passed. He reached out, gently touching my face, his voice light as air. “Jingyue, will you forget me?” I parted my lips, about to answer, but he interrupted me—his voice soft yet cruel. “Don’t remember me.” I held back the tears welling in my eyes, my voice hoarse. “Why?” “Jingyue, I’ll tell you a secret.” His eyes shimmered, holding a quiet light. “I love the moon.” “How much?” “Very… very much.” I nodded furiously, tears streaming down my face. He wiped them away, smiling like a child. “Little Moon, isn’t your big brother the best-looking?” “Yes! You’re the best-looking!” He pinched my cheek, tugging it slightly. “Does it hurt?” It didn’t. He had no strength left. “It hurts. It hurts so much I could die.” My whole body ached. Jiang Huaiyang pressed his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes as tears slipped into my mouth, bitter, salty, and unbearably sour. “Little Moon, you have to remember—your big brother loves the moon the most.” He fell asleep again, quietly. Aunt Jiang covered her mouth, sobbing, while my mother stood behind her, supporting her frail shoulders, tears streaming down her own face. Uncle Jiang wiped his eyes. My father met my gaze, then turned away, unwilling to look at me. Pain surged through me. The moment I took a step forward, my legs gave out, and I fell to my knees. Through my blurred vision, my mother pulled me into her arms, gently patting my back. She whispered into my ear, “Yueyue, it’s okay… it’s okay…” In my panic, I grabbed her hand and asked a question I already knew the answer to. “Is Jiang Huaiyang going to die?” He probably was. Otherwise, why would they all be crying so desperately? Would the next time he woke up be the last? We all stayed by his side. When he woke up, he was surprisingly alert. Seeing the room full of people, he looked a little embarrassed, smiling as he teased us for making a big fuss over nothing. He held Aunt Jiang’s hand, looking between his mother and the father standing behind her. His eyes were filled with longing and reluctance. “I’m sorry.” Aunt Jiang didn’t cry, though her eyes were red. She gently stroked his face, shaking her head with a tender smile. “No apologies, Huaiyang. Thank you… thank you for choosing me to be your mother.” Uncle Jiang quickly wiped his tears away. “Son, I should be thanking you too—for choosing me to be your father.” Jiang Huaiyang smiled, his eyes turning red. They talked for a long time. Finally, he asked Uncle Jiang to carry him outside. He wanted to play on the swing in the yard. Aunt Jiang pinched his cheek, laughing. “You’re already so grown up, and you still want to play on the swing?” That swing had been built by Jiang Huaiyang when he was fourteen. The first time I tried it, I fell right off, scaring him pale. Jiang Huaiyang scrunched up his nose, acting spoiled. “I’m only nineteen, Mom. Haven’t you heard the saying? No matter how old a son gets, he’s always a child in his parents’ eyes.” Aunt Jiang’s tears welled up as she stroked his hair, his face, his ears. “You’re right. No matter how old a child gets, they’ll always be a child to their parents.” He looked up at me, then turned to my mother. “Auntie, can I have Jingyue accompany me?” My mother smiled. “Of course.” Jiang Huaiyang and I sat on the swing together. Aunt Jiang, Uncle Jiang, and my parents watched us from the little garden. He leaned against my shoulder, and I held his hand. A gentle breeze swept past—it was May, and the wind was as soft as a mother’s touch. He took the red string off his wrist and tied it onto mine. “You wished for the wrong thing. You should’ve asked for your own good health.” I shook my head. “No, I wished for exactly what I wanted. But now… it seems like it doesn’t work after all. That vendor… how could he lie to me?” “He didn’t lie. My life was never meant to be long. No matter how much you pray, it won’t change anything.” “Little Moon, don’t forget what I told you. You have to grow up well…” “I will. I won’t miss you, and I won’t come to see you.” “Good…” “Jiang Huaiyang…” “Hmm?” “Will you always love the moon?” “I will. I only love the moon.” “I only love Jiang Huaiyang.” He laughed, his tears falling onto my shoulder, scorching hot. “Don’t love me. I’m not worth it.” “You are. No one is more worth it than you.” My voice trembled, laced with sobs. I suddenly… felt so hopeless. He was only nineteen. Why did this have to happen to him? Jiang Huaiyang lifted his head, his eyes damp. He pressed his forehead against mine, our noses almost touching. I saw the tears fall from his eyes. Then he pulled away, looking at me for a long, long time before pressing a kiss to my forehead. He wiped away my tears. “Little Moon, you have to grow up well. You have to be happy, to live a long, fulfilling life… You must forget me.” “…Alright.” “Xu Jingyue, let’s meet again after a hundred years.” “Okay.” “I’m feeling a little sleepy. You have to remember your promise.” “…Alright.” I looked up. Light and shadow intertwined in this moment. The world did not pause. Time did not stop. I felt his breath grow weaker and weaker. The hand holding mine slipped away, powerless. I felt the gentle breeze brush against me. I heard the chirping of birds in the distance. I smelled the fragrance of the flowers in the yard. Everything around me was bursting with life. Everything except the person beside me—who never moved again. Uncle Jiang and my father carried him back inside. Aunt Jiang collapsed onto the ground, wailing. My mother held her tightly. I stood up, numbly walking away. “Jiang Huaiyang, I won’t miss you. I won’t remember you.”